


you can take off your clothes (long as you coming home)

by persephoneggsy



Series: The Pantheon (YoI Stripper AU) [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Infidelity Fantasy, Lapdance, Lingerie, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Stripper Yuuri, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Yuuri wears heels bc that's my main kink y'all, Yuuri's stage name is Eros because Original™, i guess?, if you're worried about that read the notes at the end first please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 16:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11855580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: Victor is dragged along for a night out with his coworkers at a fancy strip club. Then, to all his coworker’s surprise, he gets very friendly with one of the strippers, a gorgeous man known only as Eros.But… doesn’t Victor have a boyfriend?





	you can take off your clothes (long as you coming home)

**Author's Note:**

> title from Usher's "I Don't Mind"
> 
> This is the third blow job fic I've written for Victuuri and honestly I'm not even sorry anymore

* * *

 

Victor taps his fingers impatiently against the armrest of the taxi, but no one pays him any mind. Beside him, Georgi and Chris are chatting about something that happened at the last meeting, and in the front seat, Sergei interjects with his own, completely unnecessary, comments.

Victor frowns and keeps tapping. He doesn’t even really want to be here. Georgi and Chris he gets along fine with, he’s even gone out drinking with them a few times, but… Sergei he doesn’t much care for. It’s not that he _hates_ him, really, he just mildly dislikes him. He’s the kind of guy who thinks he’s hot shit without actually having done much, and most of his successes are more often than not attributed to his Fortune 500 surname rather than actual accomplishments.

But it had been a torturously slow week at the office, so when their newest Management Assistant claimed to know the best spot for the four of them to unwind for the weekend, Georgi and Chris readily agreed. And Victor, not having much else to do – what with his boyfriend working that night – reluctantly tagged along.

The taxi pulls to a stop suddenly, startling Victor out of his thoughts. Glancing out the window, he sees a bright neon sign illuminating the words ‘ _The Pantheon’_ in hot pink; posters of scantily-clad men line the brick wall underneath the sign. Victor blinks. He opens his mouth to comment, but Georgi beats him to it.

“A strip club?” he asks incredulously.

Chris whistles approvingly. “I’ve heard of this place. It’s quite popular.”

Sergei smirks back at the three of them. “For good reason. Come on, wait till you see the talent.”

They all get out of the taxi, though Victor is the last to leave, still watching the entrance to the club with wary eyes. But he decides not to say anything as they walk up to the doors. There’s a short but athletic man guarding the entrance, standing imposingly with his arms crossed over his chest. Sergei flashes him a grin, and the man does nothing, allowing Sergei to pass. Georgi and Chris follow him, the man not giving them a second glance, but when he sees Victor, he pauses.

Victor shrugs, patting the man on the shoulder with a commiserating smile before heading in himself.

The interior of the club is surprisingly tasteful; the walls are a sultry red, embellished sparsely with gold. Men and women in erotic costumes are dancing on tables, at which several patrons are seated, whistling and crooning their appreciation whilst also waving around crisp paper bills to shove down their waistbands. There’s a large stage at the front of the room, clearly meant for the main attraction. Victor smiles slightly at the sight of it before Sergei starts leading them towards an empty table close to the stage.

“Best seats in the house,” he boasts, prompting Victor to roll his eyes. He’s seated at the edge of the table, Georgi and Chris in the middle, and Sergei on the other end. They _are_ quite close to the stage, but Victor can spot at least three other tables with better vantage points.

He feels a nudge to his arm and looks over to see Georgi staring at him with concern.

“Hey, Victor, is this okay for you?”

Victor has to take a moment to respond. “Huh?”

“I mean…” Georgi gestures all around them, presumably at the club. “Of the four of us, you’re the one in a relationship. Would your boyfriend be okay with you being here?”

Victor blinks again, then grins. “Oh, that? Don’t worry, Georgi, my Yuuri is very open-minded about this sort of thing.”

Georgi looks like he doesn’t quite believe it, but a loud voice booms over the speaker, interrupting whatever he was about to say next.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice starts, appropriately enthusiastic. “Please welcome the stars of The Pantheon, your gods and goddess of love, who will enthrall you for the evening…”

The curtains part, and first, a young woman in a lac purple outfit steps out, red hair bobbing as she walks. Her hips sway invitingly, and she’s met with a chorus of cheers.

“Ludus!” the announcer declares her.

Then, after Ludus has made a sufficient amount of distance down the stage, the curtains open again and a man steps out. His outfit isn’t much better than hers in terms of skin coverage, but it’s still an appealing crimson number, aided by his muscular physique and tanned skin. He flashes a grin at the audience, and Victor hears several of them swoon.

“Philiautia!” says the announcer.

Ludus and Philiautia stand on opposite ends of the stage, which suddenly goes dark, save for the two spotlights illuminating them.

“And now, dear guests, for The Pantheon’s star… The alluring, the captivating, the one and only… _Eros!”_

The audience cheers before the curtains even part – Sergei among them, to Victor’s amusement – signaling both that they are likely regular customers, and that Eros is by far the most popular member of The Pantheon’s talent. Indeed, Victor stares as the curtain finally opens, and the most stunning man walks out, clad in black lace and diamonds.

He’s lithe and graceful, strutting down the stage with the finesse of a supermodel. His feet don’t wobble in the dangerous-looking red heels he wears, and the lights of the stage glint off the diamonds on his costume, making him sparkle. His hair is pushed back from his face, revealing sultry brown eyes outlined with makeup – Victor’s eyes are immediately drawn to the dark red lipstick that highlight Eros’s smirk, and he feels his blood rush south.

“Wow,” he hears Chris whistle. “Eros, huh?”

“He’s the star of the show,” says Sergei. “And for good reason. Just look at him…”

Sergei’s expression is a little _too_ lustful for Victor’s taste, but he supposes that’s the point of a strip club. Chris is admiring all the talent onstage with equal fervor, but Georgi seems focused on Ludus, who’s begun dancing on the pole closest to her. Philiautia is doing the same on his end of the stage, an Eros walks forward, smiling down at the audience who coo appreciatively as he passes them.

At the front of the stage, there’s another pole; it’s this one that Eros takes a hold of and leans against, sticking out his hips at just the right angle to make another round of hollers emerge from the crowd. He smiles at their response, glancing around, and that’s when he sees Victor.

His eyes widen. Victor waves innocently.

“Did you just wave hello to a stripper?” Chris asks incredulously.

Victor opens his mouth to explain – and he really was going to explain, honest – but then Eros’s smirk returns. He swings a leg around the pole and does a little twirl, stopping so that Victor has the perfect view of his backside.

And _oh,_ what a lovely backside it is.

Whatever he was planning on saying to his coworkers is quickly forgotten as Eros goes about his routine, which seems tailor-made so that Victor gets all the best views. Eros slowly peels off a part of his costume, leaving him in the heels, a pair of sheer stockings, and black lace panties that hug enticingly over his ass. This earns another rousing rounds of cheers, but Victor can only stare.

He’s barely aware of the cheers around him, the way bills of money wave around in the hands of the crowd, or the way Sergei seems to be glaring at him. All he sees is Eros, who dances as if for Victor alone.

And Victor knows that he is.

Eros suddenly drops to his knees and begins crawling over to where Victor and his coworkers sit. His back arches seductively as he makes his way over, and he’s eyeing Victor with intent.

“Oh my God,” Victor hears Georgi say distantly.

Eros makes it to the edge of the stage and beckons towards Victor with his index fingers. Dumbly, Victor sways to his feet and leans forward, only to have Eros grab his tie and pull him in close.

“And just what are _you_ doing here, hm?” the stripper murmurs in his ear. Victor shivers.

“I…”

Victor feels something being pushed into his hands. Startled, he tears his gaze away from Eros to see Chris pressing a twenty into his palm, an eager, almost amused, look on his face. Victor shoots him an annoyed look, but then his tie is tugged at again so that he faces Eros. The stripper licks his lips, and using his other hand, tugs at the waistband of his panties. Victor gulps.

With a shaky hand, he slips the bill into Eros’s waistband, letting the strap secure it to his pale, soft skin. His fingers linger by the area, and Eros sends him another flirty look.

“Thanks,” he purrs.

Releasing Victor’s tie, Eros stands up and makes his way back to center stage. Ludus and Philiautia join him, each wearing significantly less clothing than they had been at the start.

As the trio continue their performance, Victor sinks back into his chair, still wearing the same dumbstruck expression. Georgi and Chris both laugh, the latter clapping a hand on Victor’s shoulder, while Sergei merely huffs with annoyance.

Victor just shifts in his seat, grimacing at the discomfort the growing tent in his jeans is giving him.

Eros catches his eyes again and smirks, sending a wink Victor’s way before waltzing offstage with the other strippers.

Victor narrows his eyes.

 

* * *

 

After the performance ends, Victor is ready to head home and plot his revenge, when Chris apparently gets a better idea.

The blond waves over a server – another scantily-clad, attractive young person – and asks if Eros gives private dances.

Sergei snorts, answering before the server can even open her mouth. “No, he doesn’t. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Victor’s mouth twists unpleasantly at that, but none of his associates notice. The server just shrugs.

“To be honest, I don’t really know. But I’ve never seen him go in the back room, so…”

“Ah…” Chris purses his lips. “I mean, it still wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Georgi frowns disapprovingly. “Chris! Victor has a boyfriend.”

Chris turns to Victor. “Would he mind?”

Victor thinks for a moment. Should he tell them?

… Honestly, it’s kind of fun having them _not_ know.

“Not really,” he answers. “Like I said before, he’s pretty open-minded.”

Georgi’s jaw drops. “Open-minded enough for _this?”_

Victor shrugs.

Sergei crosses his arms and looks unimpressed. “Don’t waste your time. He isn’t going to do it.”

“He’s right over there,” observes Chris, peering past the group. “And… oh! He’s coming this way.”

They all turn – save for the server, who’s since gone off to do her job, figuring her role in the conversation finished – to see, yes, Eros striding towards them. He’s wearing a slightly more modest outfit (but not really), consisting of a black vest, matching booty shorts, embroidered garter belt, and dark sheer stockings. His heels this time are a shade of midnight blue, and they sparkle as he walks.

Victor can’t help the dopey smile that crosses over his face. _Hot damn._

Eros’s grin widens as he stops just a few feet in front of Victor and his coworkers.

“Hi,” he greets, eyes hooded flirtatiously.

“Hi,” Victor says back.

Chris springs into action almost immediately, crossing over to Eros with a charming smile.

“Well, hello! Eros, right?”

The stripper raises an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to give my friend here,” he gestures to Victor, who waves again, “a… private dance?”

Eros’s gaze slides back over to Victor. He purses his lips, as if thinking about it.

“Well… I don’t usually do private shows,” he starts, and Victor notices how Sergei seems to smile smugly. But then Eros goes on, continuing with, “… but I might make an exception for your friend.”

Victor grins, both at Eros’s words and Sergei’s subsequent sputtering. Eros reaches out, extending his hand towards Victor, a tiny smile on his face; not quite as sultry as before, but no less genuine. Victor reaches out as well, intertwining his fingers with Eros’s, and soon, the stripper is leading him through the club to a partitioned-off area marked with a sign; ‘ _Private Area’._

Victor glances back just once, seeing his coworkers’ different reactions. Chris is smiling proudly, Sergei looks shocked and pissed, and Georgi has a conflicted expression on his face. Feeling a bit guilty, Victor makes a note to explain everything to Georgi (and maybe everyone else, too), before he refocuses his attention on Eros, who opens a door and gestures for Victor to enter.

Eros closes the door behind them as Victor looks around the room. It looks like the private room of a strip club should; velvet curtains line the walls, a cushiony sofa sits at the head of the room, and a lone metal pole is in the dead center, where a slightly raised platform holds it up.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” says Eros.

Victor shoots him a sly look and complies, settling himself on the middle of the decently comfortable sofa.

He expects Eros to walk to the pole and start dancing, but to his surprise, the stripper walks right past it, instead making his way to Victor, clambering into his lap. Victor lets out a soft breath as the gorgeous man before him sits directly on his half-hardened cock.

“Yu –!”

Eros presses a finger against his lips, silencing him. He looks up, confused, only to find Eros smirking down at him.

“I don’t normally do this, you know,” he says, his voice a husky whisper. “I have a boyfriend.”

Victor blinks. Then it hits him.

_Oh._

He wants to play a game, does he? Fine. He smiles back, grabbing Eros’s wrist so that he can speak. “Oh? Does he get jealous easily?”

“Not as easily as I’d like,” Eros admits. He slowly pushes down on Victor’s groin, earning a hitched breath from the taller man. “See, I love him, but sometimes he’s just too… what’s the word? Nice?”

Victor hums – or tries to, anyway – in acknowledgement. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the slow, rhythmic grinding of Eros’s ass against his clothed erection.

Eros leans down to whisper in his ear. “Sometimes I want him to get so jealous he fucks me into next week.”

“Oh, God,” Victor groans. He goes to grab Eros’s hips, only for his hands to be slapped away.

“Ah, ah,” grins Eros. “I can touch; you can’t.”

He lets out a frustrated noise in response. As if taking pity on him, Eros starts moving his hips faster, harder, until Victor knows he’s fully hard under his pants. Still, he keeps his hands clenched by his sides, despite the mounting temptation to just _grab_ Eros and rut into him like a wild animal.

He settles for talking instead. “So, your boyfriend… He doesn’t satisfy you?”

“Oh, I never said that,” demurs Eros. “He satisfies me plenty. He’s got a long, thick cock that fills me up just right… He just doesn’t _fuck_ me the way I want him to sometimes.”

Victor feels dizzy, overheated and maybe a bit prideful at Eros’s words.

“Maybe you should just tell him that.”

“Maybe it’s more fun this way,” he shoots back.

And, yeah, Victor can’t deny that.

Suddenly Eros gets off his lap, standing up. He turns so that his back is facing Victor, and he tosses a little smirk over his shoulder. His thumbs hook into the waistband of his booty shorts. Then slowly, he bends over, peeling them down his long, creamy legs. Victor is presented with the sight of a purple thong, nestled snugly between Eros’s ass cheeks. He swallows thickly, his fingers twitching with the urge to caress the plush skin.

Eros’s own hands do that, each gripping a cheek and gently prying them apart. Victor catches a glimpse of a pink, furled hole, hidden partially by the string of the thong.

“Fuck,” he whispers. One of his hands slides to his crotch, cupping the bulge there almost desperately. “You’re so hot…”

“Thank you,” Eros laughs. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He straightens his back and turns around, though he doesn’t crawl back into Victor’s lap like Victor desperately wants him to. Instead, he unbuttons his vest and lets it slip from his shoulders to the floor. He’s left in the garter belt, stockings, and thong – and, of course, the heels, which Victor eyes intently.

“Do you dress like this around your boyfriend?” he asks.

Eros tilts his head to the left. “No. Why?”

“He’d be a lucky son of a bitch if you did.”

A giggle escapes the stripper’s mouth. “Maybe I’ll keep that in mind.”

And then, he finally returns to Victor, standing just a few centimeters away. He bends over, running his hands down Victor’s tensed thighs, spreading them wider apart, and he smiles at the obvious bulge in his trousers. Victor’s breath hitches again, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side. It’s getting increasingly difficult to _not_ touch the man. Though, Victor knows he wouldn’t be so upset if he did.

Still, Victor holds on to his resolve, merely watching with bated breath as Eros slowly turns around, revealing that wonderful ass to him. With a twist of his hips, Eros’s body slides down, his ass meeting Victor’s clothed groin for a few blessed moments before leaving him again. He repeats this, mimicking the action of riding Victor, reverse-cowgirl style, except it frustrates Victor in addition to arousing him.

Eros seems to notice, when he tosses his head back to look behind his shoulder at his client. He’s got a sly grin on his lips. “What’s wrong, baby? Is this not good enough?”

Victor swallows thickly, shaking his head. “I… I want to touch you. Please, Eros…”

Eros just hums, halting his actions. He stands up straight, making a show of thinking about it.

“Hmm… I don’t know. You seem awfully needy to me. Are you going to be satisfied with just touching me?”

Victor thinks for a moment, then shakes his head again. Might as well go for broke, he assumes.

“No. I want to fuck you.”

Eros’s grin widens. “I told you, I have a boyfriend.”

“I could give it to you the way you want,” Victor says, ardently. “I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t even walk out of this room.”

He sees the way Eros shivers, little goosebumps rising on his soft skin. He bites back a victorious grin of his own.

“What makes you think I’d cheat on my boyfriend so easily?” Eros asks, but his voice is a little breathier than before. “He satisfies me plenty.”

“You wouldn’t have brought him up if that were true,” Victor retorts.

Feeling bold, his hands go to his trousers. He unzips them slowly, aware of how Eros has now fully turned around, watching him with thinly-veiled arousal. Moments later, Victor is pulling his hard, thick erection from his zipper, exposing it to the cold air with a small hiss of breath. He strokes its girth absently, refocusing his gaze on Eros. The stripper is looking at his big cock like it’s a piece of candy he wants all to himself.

Victor smirks. “You want it, I can tell. Come on… Who says your boyfriend ever has to know?”

Eros bites his lip, chewing at the soft pink flesh. “I-I… I have to work late tonight. I can’t get fucked with hours left on my shift.”

Victor almost laughs. “Then I won’t put it in your ass. I’ll fuck that pretty little mouth of yours instead. You don’t need to talk to take off your clothes.” He stands up, which startles Eros, but he gives him no time to react beyond a small jump; he wraps his arms around the stripper and holds him close. “Either way, by the end of the night, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock.”

Eros lets out a full-body shudder. “ _Fuck,”_ he whispers.

“Is that a yes?” Victor asks smugly, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, _God_ yes,” Eros leans against him. “Use me…”

Victor kisses him. Eros groans into his mouth, opening up easily under Victor’s tongue. They make out passionately and obscenely, standing in the middle of a strip club private room, Victor’s cock rubbing against Eros’s abdomen. When they finally part, there’s a string of saliva still connecting their lips.

Eros is flushed, his cheeks rosy with arousal. His pupils are dilated, emphasizing the doe-like quality of his eyes. Combined with his spit-slicked lips, which are also pink and swollen from Victor’s ministrations, he looks every bit the god of sexual love.

“Gorgeous,” he hears himself growl.

Without giving Eros time to recover, he grabs him and forces him to his knees. Eros whimpers, but instead of shying away, he presses his face against Victor’s thigh, gazing up at his cock with adoration clear in his expression. He even licks his lips.

The stripper raises a hand to stroke gently up and down Victor’s other thigh. Victor doesn’t move, just waits to see where the other man wants this to go. Slowly, Eros’s hand comes to pull down his pants a little more, so that his balls are also free of their confines. He watches with a smug grin as Eros cups the heavy sacs in his palm, rubbing against them and making his cock twitch.

“You’re so big,” Eros murmurs.

He can’t help the teasing tone in his voice when he returns, “Bigger than your boyfriend?”

Eros gives him a coy look. “I can’t tell. I’d have to see how far it stretches my lips to be sure.”

Victor slides a hand into Eros’s hair.

“You little slut. Open your mouth, then.”

Eros does; Victor takes a moment to admire the pink, wet cavern his cock is about to call home. Then, using his other hand to grip himself around the base, he angles his cock towards that mouth and starts feeding it in.

Eros gives an automatic moan of contentment, presumably as the first taste of Victor’s precum blooms on his tongue. Victor feels that same muscle already prodding at his slit, as Eros’s hand squeezes tighter around his balls.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he asks. His cock is just barely halfway inside the stripper’s mouth, but it’s already stretching his lips, creating a beautifully obscene picture.

Eros’s moan of an answer is muffled, naturally. Victor imagines he offered some kind of half-hearted defense for himself.

“What was it you said before?” Victor wonders aloud, jerking his hips forward so that a few more inches slide in; it’s quick, punishing, and immensely rewarding when Eros lets out a surprised gag. The vibrations shoot straight through Victor’s dick and throughout the rest of his body. “That your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you the way you want? Well, how do you want it, slut? To get _fucked into next week,_ isn’t that it?”

His grin widens as Eros tries to pull back, to tell him _exactly_ how he wants it, but Victor’s tight grip keeps his head in place. So the stripper can only manage a few garbled moans around his cock. It makes saliva drip out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin, only adding to the lewdness of his overall image.

“I can’t hear you,” snickers Victor. He lets go of Eros’s hair and the stripper pulls his mouth off him, coughing lightly. He looks up at Victor with a dazed expression.

“Y… You’re so _mean,”_ he says, and he says it like he’s both shaken and amazed.

Victor shrugs. “You wanted me to use you. Am I supposed to be nice?”

Eros leans forward, nuzzling his cheek against Victor’s cock. If humans could purr, Eros would be a rumbling mess right now, Victor’s sure. And if he were a lesser man, he would’ve come already.

“No, I love it…” Eros murmurs lovingly. “Keep going. Fuck my mouth, pour your load down my throat…”

As if Victor weren’t already melting, Eros presses a sweet kiss to the plush head of his cock.

“Please?” he asks, innocent as you please, while he gazes up at Victor’s face.

Victor almost breaks character to swoop down and pepper the man’s face with kisses – but that’s not what he asked for. Instead, he grits his teeth and grabs either side of Eros’s face. The stripper opens his mouth without prompting, sticking out his tongue with clear enthusiasm. His hands have moved from Victor’s balls to his thighs, holding onto the material of his trousers with an anticipatory grip.

Victor jerks Eros’s head down, and this time, pushes until Eros has swallowed him to the root.

Of course, Eros gags, spitting up on Victor’s dick like he expected him to. But he doesn’t push at Victor’s legs or even try to move his head back reflexively, despite the telltale wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes. He breathes in deeply through his nose, which is buried in the fine silver pubic hairs covering Victor’s crotch. Then he swallows.

 _“Fuck,”_ groans Victor. He pulls Eros back, then forward, easing himself out in tiny increments. The head of his cock scrapes against Eros’s throat anyway, causing a lovely cacophony of gags, splutters, and moans to fill the air.

Gradually, he pulls out more, pushes in harder, and quickens his pace. Eros’s throat relaxes and constricts in rhythm with Victor, and it’s like they fall into a pattern, as easy as breathing.

Victor feels the man under him shift, and soon, something presses against his shoe. It’s Eros’s crotch. Victor bites back a surprised moan as he sees the stripper rut against his foot, the front of his purple panties dampened with precum.

His hold on Eros’s midnight hair tightens to a degree he knows must be painful. But it doesn’t deter the man; if anything, it only encourages him. His head bobs faster, of its own volition.

Almost unwillingly, Victor tosses his own head back, letting out a breathy groan at the ceiling. And again, unwillingly, the wrong name slips past his lips.

“Yuuri…”

He swears he can feel Eros grin around his cock. His arms drop to his side, relinquishing control to the stripper. Eros maintains the pace from before, throat rippling around Victor’s thick member – it’s not long before Victor feels the tension build in his gut, his cock seizing and twitching more with each passing second.

Well… it’s honestly a miracle that Victor’s lasted this long.

Eros pulls back, so that his lips are sealed around only the head of Victor’s cock. He suckles at it, as if to draw out his seed, and it’s at that moment that Victor chooses to look down.

Eros is looking back at him, eyes wide and sweet. It should look weird, the obscenity of his stretched, pink mouth and flushed cheeks combined with the demurity in his gaze, but for Victor, it only adds to his eroticism.

It’s what breaks the dam.

Victor comes with a wordless shout, his eyes screwing shut, every muscle in his body seizing as he shoots into Eros’s mouth. Distantly, he hears the stripper’s pleased moan, and then the dirty sounds of him swallowing every last drop until Victor has been milked dry.

Victor’s knees almost give out from under him; and they would’ve, had Eros not stood and gently pushed him back until he falls back into the sofa. Victor is panting – his face feels overheated and his head is spinning.

_Wow._

He barely has the wherewithal to refocus his gaze on Eros as the stripper once again straddles his legs. He presses their fronts together, allowing Victor to feel his hardened cock against his abdomen.

Eros kisses him, deeply. Victor can taste himself on his tongue. It’s more arousing that he cares to admit.

“I’m not done,” he whispers against the silver-haired man’s lips. “Make me come, Victor.”

Heaving a shuddering breath, Victor obediently reaches down and palms at Eros’s dick through his panties. His other hand reaches around the curve of his ass, sliding a finger under the thin strip that separates his cheeks. Victor rubs the pad of his finger against the puckered rim of Eros’s entrance, while his first hand dips past the waistband to touch his cock, skin on skin.

Eros mewls, humping against Victor’s hands as he wraps his arms around his client’s neck. He presses their foreheads together, so that Victor can feel every puff of hot breath against his face.

“That’s it,” Eros encourages, voice husky and low. “Keep going, Vitya… I’m almost there…”

Victor smiles, pressing a kiss to Eros’s cheek while he strokes his cock faster, pushes his finger in harder.

“Come for me, Yuuri,” he murmurs. “Get this pretty little thong nice and dirty.”

Eros moans; he jerks his hips forward once, twice, and on the third go, he comes with a full-bodied shudder. Victor feels his hole twitch against the pad of his finger, and warm come spills onto his other hand.

He waits for the stripper to work through the aftershocks of his orgasm, and when he does, Victor retracts both hands, holding up the dirtied one for them both to see.

Eros – or rather, Yuuri, since Victor supposes the scene dropped the moment he accidentally used his real name – gives a dopey grin at the sight of his lover’s hand. He grabs Victor’s wrist and brings the hand closer to his lips. Victor’s not surprised in the slightest when his boyfriend starts licking the come off his fingers.

“You’re incorrigible,” he remarks, though he does so fondly.

Yuuri shoots him a flirty look. When he finishes licking the last drop of pearly white liquid, he rests his head against Victor’s shoulder and sighs.

“That was amazing,” he says. “We should do that more often.”

“Pretend to cheat on each other?” Victor asks, amused.

“You got excited by it, don’t lie. It’s not like we ever really would, anyway.”

He hums, stroking a hand down Yuuri’s back. “I know, I know.”

“I was mostly talking about you and that mean streak,” continues Yuuri. “I didn’t know you had that in you, Vitya.”

Victor feels an odd wave of embarrassment wash over him. “I… I didn’t either. You really liked it?”

“Mmhm,” Yuuri purrs. “It was hot.” A beat passes. “Did you not like it?”

“I liked it a lot more than I think I should’ve,” he answers honestly.

He feels more than hears Yuuri’s laugh, his breath tickling the skin of his neck. They sit in a cozy silence for a few more moments, when Yuuri speaks up again.

“You should probably be heading back to your friends, now.”

“Not friends,” Victor admits with a grimace. “Co-workers. And they’re all probably thinking I just cheated on my boyfriend.”

Yuuri pulls back, looking at Victor with wide eyes. “Do they not know what I do?”

Victor shrugs, sheepish. “It’s not really something you tell co-workers, _zvezda.”_

“Then why did you even come here?”

“One of them, Sergei, comes here a lot, I guess. He’s a big fan of yours.”

Yuuri squints, nose scrunching up adorably as he tries to remember the men he’d seen with Victor earlier. “… Oh! The skinny one with brown hair?”

“That’s him.”

“I remember him. He’s the one that got super drunk and said he wanted to marry me.”

Victor frowns. “That guy was Sergei?”

He remembers Yuuri coming home one night and mentioning a man who proposed to him. Victor didn’t think anything of it; his Yuuri was gorgeous and everyone loved him, especially when he was performing. They both had a decent laugh about it, and soon, it was forgotten.

But now, knowing that it was _Sergei…_

He’s brought out of his musings as Yuuri shifts, glancing down at his crotch with pursed lips. Victor follows his gaze to see that the front of Yuuri’s thong is effectively ruined. It’s covered with spunk and pre-cum, and it’s been pulled out of shape by Victor’s own hand.

“Isabella’s going to kill me,” Yuuri whines.

“Sorry,” Victor grins back, not sorry in the slightest.

He helps Yuuri get to his feet, and they both clean themselves up as best they can. Victor tucks himself back into his trousers and straightens out his hair, while Yuuri puts his vest and booty shorts back on, which luckily covers the evidence of their activity. Mostly. Their faces are still rosy and lips still swollen, and Yuuri’s got a small rasp in his voice from having his throat stuffed full of Victor’s dick.

But they’ve been hidden away for long enough, so it’s not like they could wait for those symptoms to go away.

Eventually, they both leave the private room. The club is as busy as it was when they left, though two new performers have taken the stage, and that’s where most of the crowd’s attention is directed.

“Victor!”

Victor turns his head as he hears his name. He sees Georgi and Christophe approaching, with Sergei lagging reluctantly behind. The latter looks pissed, to Victor’s internal satisfaction.

Victor gives the three of them a pleasant smile. “Hey, guys.”

“So, how was it?” asks Christophe, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. He looks at Yuuri as he asks it, but the stripper merely smiles and doesn’t answer.

“It was amazing,” Victor says dreamily. “Eros here is really talented.”

Georgi grimaces. “Right, well… It’s late. We should probably all get going home… I’m sure your _boyfriend_ is wondering where you are.”

Victor almost laughs. Instead, he just turns to look at Yuuri with the biggest shit-eating grin he can manage.

“He knows exactly where I am. Don’t you, _zvezda moya?”_

Yuuri rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, too. “Don’t tease them, Vitya. Just say it.”

Georgi, Chris, and Sergei all pause, looking between the two of them. It seems to dawn on Georgi first, as his jaw drops comically, pointing at Yuuri with an accusatory finger.

“Wait, _that’s_ Yuuri?”

“Hello,” Yuuri says politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“He’s your _boyfriend?”_ says Chris next. He stares at Yuuri, then Victor. _“Nice.”_

Victor beams. It helps that Sergei looks dismayed.

The moment is interrupted, however, when someone bounds up to their little group. It’s one of the dancers that was with Yuuri before, Philautia – though Victor knows his real name is JJ. His girlfriend, Isabella, designs the costumes that the strippers at The Pantheon wear. He and Yuuri go on double dates with them quite frequently.

“Hey, Eros,” he calls out. “Philia and Mania are almost done with their set. You’re up after them.”

“Ah, got it,” Yuuri replies, waving a hand at JJ. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

JJ walks off (though not without throwing a curious glance in Victor’s direction first), leaving Yuuri to turn to Victor with a small smile. “I have to get back to work. See you at home?”

Victor smiles back, lovesick as he was the first time he met Yuuri. “Of course.”

They kiss each other, deliberately ignoring the looks of Victor’s coworkers. If they paid attention, they’d see Georgi’s relieved smile, Christophe’s impressed stare, and Sergei’s absolutely fuming expression.

When they break apart, Yuuri adds, “I fed Makkachin before I left the apartment, so you don’t have to.”

“Noted,” Victor nods.

Yuuri, satisfied, gives a small wave to the other three men before he leaves, walking in the same direction that JJ had earlier.

 

* * *

 

“You son of a bitch,” Georgi remarks later, after they’ve gotten in a different cab to take them all back to their homes. “You should’ve said something!”

Victor laughs. “Sorry, sorry. But it was funny.”

“I was _worried_ about you!”

“I was mostly impressed,” says Christophe. “You really bagged a hottie, Victor.”

“I know.”

From his seat in the front, Sergei tuts, obviously annoyed. “He’s a stripper. Doesn’t that bother you? He gets naked for strangers for a _living_.”

Victor smiles placidly at the back of Sergei’s head. “He’s good at it, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, I trust him.”

Georgi coos at that, but Sergei just huffs.

“And plus, I get to hear all sorts of stories about his clients,” Victor adds. He smirks upon seeing Sergei’s shoulders go rigid. “My Yuuri’s been proposed to before, by _very_ drunken men; did you know that?”

Chris laughs, and Georgi shakes his head with a smile at the idea.

“I’m not surprised,” Chris says. “Your Yuuri is a marvel.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Victor sighs contentedly.

“You seem happy,” comments Georgi. “You two must be a good match.”

“The best,” Victor agrees.

Sergei is quiet the rest of the drive. Even when Chris and Georgi and Victor himself get dropped off at their respective homes, he doesn’t say a word. Victor catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror as he exits the cab – he looks unbelievably pissed.

He glares at Victor through the mirror.

Victor grins back.

Over the next few weeks, according to Yuuri, Sergei hasn’t been back to The Pantheon at all.

Victor pats his back, consoling him over the loss of such an ardent fan, to which Yuuri just rolls his eyes and goes back to texting his mother.

Victor kisses his cheek, and feels plenty satisfied.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Infidelity Fantasy: Yuuri and Victor pretend not to know each other and that they're cheating on each other with... each other. They don't actually want to be with anyone else, it was just some kinky fun (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> I have more ideas for this AU (as I do most of my AUs because what is self-restraint), so... Maybe be on the lookout for that? Idk


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